My apartment is perfect. I know that to many people it wouldn’t appear remarkable in any sense, but for me, it’s perfect. I could never have imagined being so comfortable in an 18 square meters apartment. For those of you who are not so familiar with the metric system and are having trouble imagining it, 18 square meters is the US equivalent of very, very tiny…think large walk-in closet.
I rented my apartment before I arrived in Paris, so had only seen a few pictures online. Knowing, as we all do, that pictures can be deceiving, particularly when it comes to apartments, I was weary. But after climbing the seemingly endless stairs for the first time (my apartment is on the 4th French floor/the American 5th) I was happily surprised. Some features were immediately charming: the beautifully ancient exposed-beam ceiling (well ancient to a Californian), the slanted wooden staircase (pictured above) and the nearly floor to ceiling windows that open out to two “balconies.” But there are other features that I think one might describe as something “only a mother could love,” yes, as sad as it sounds, this apartment is like a child to me and I will gush over it like one of those mothers with a bumper sticker on her mini-van that says “My Child is an Honor Student.”
My kitchen is the same size as my closet, which is in no way saying that either are anything but miniscule, and my couch is also my bed, but they work for me. I am officially obsessed with my two burner Electrolux stove top. Kelly Ripa is not lying in the commercials, when she says that you can boil water in 90 seconds. My direct view is of the hotel across the way and when my blinds are open tourists can see me doing pilates or making dinner, but if I step out on to one of my “balconies” I can see rooftops and sky and people scurrying along the street below. And it’s all mine, the stove top and the view and the slanted stairs…my very own apartment in Paris and to me, mon petit enfant est parfait.